


pas de deux

by willurosinmybow



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - High School, Dancing, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willurosinmybow/pseuds/willurosinmybow
Summary: you need to knowbothparts of the pas de deux to dance it properly...
Relationships: Breddy - Relationship, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	pas de deux

Brett is alone in the studio, working on his relève, studying himself critically in the mirror as he lifts up to the ball of his foot and back down. He goes slowly, keeping good form. His muscles are burning, but he ignores them - he's used to it after all.

It's better. Certainly better than in this morning's class - his face burns in embarrassment as he remembers being called out for being sloppy on such an elementary move. Go back to your basics, the teacher snapped at him, giving him such a look that implied that Brett shouldn't have been promoted to the upper level class, where most of the students were two or three years older than him. 

So now he's drop dead tired and working on the most basic of technique. He _will_ keep up. It's always been his dream to be the best ballet dancer in the world, and win a spot as a principal with one of the most prestigious companies. Obviously he's not going to let anything get in the way of that. In the upper level class, they learn so many things, and so quickly. Brett's new to it, and a little overwhelmed - but he has to prove he can handle it. He can't let his form drop just because he's learning more advanced things now. He should know that, shouldn't have made that mistake in the first place.

He really needs to go back to the dorms and sleep now. He sighs and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. Outside of the studio, he collects his bag and switches out the soft ballet shoes for comfortable sneakers. He's just about to leave when he hears it - the sound of someone sobbing quietly. 

Dammit. It's late at night, and no one else is around. Brett thinks about just leaving - probably the person doesn't want to be bothered anyway. But what if something is really wrong? Brett's conscience won't let him just walk away from someone who might need his help. He sighs again and drops his bag in the entrance. He wanders through the locker rooms until he finds the source of the sound... it's one of the younger boys, sitting on a wooden bench with his face pressed against his bent knees, crying his heart out. He looks up when Brett comes closer, his face tear-streaked, and he hastily wipes his eyes. It doesn't really help, just makes his eyes redder. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Brett asks. 

The kid shakes his head angrily, still rubbing his eyes. He's probably around Brett's age actually - Brett has a bad habit of thinking of the kids in the lower classes as younger than him even though they aren’t. 

Brett sits down next to him. "What's wrong?" he asks as gently as he can. 

"It's dumb," the kid says, sniffling. Brett's never had class with him, but he's seen him around. His name is Ed... Edward? Or something. "We started working on partnering today... and I can't do it. I'm too weak! I almost dropped Sonya, and she's tiny. And I've been doing the strength training exercises and everything. And everyone else was fine. I can't be a dancer if I can't even do a simple lift." He closes his eyes with a pained, anxious expression that Brett knows too well - from seeing it on his own face, staring back at him in the mirror. 

"Look, you're - what? Fourteen? You'll get stronger, as long as you keep working on it." Brett's much better at reassuring other people who aren't himself. 

"I'm fifteen," Edward says with a sniff. "And what do you know about it anyway? You're - well. _You_."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know." Edward gives him an exasperated look. "Everyone knows who you are. You're going to get an apprenticeship next year. You won the role of Prince in the Nutcracker over everyone in the whole school. You're basically perfect."

Ugh. "Walters didn't think so, today," Brett says, and Edward look at him in astonishment. "She was on my ass all morning, said I was sloppy. Told me to work on basics."

"You're really not lying?"

"Nope. Wish I were." Brett's blushing, again. "That's why I'm here. I was doing some extra barre work."

"Oh." The kid doesn't sound judgemental or anything, just kind of relieved. Brett feels a little regretful. He wishes he were as perfect as everyone in the lower classes thinks he is, apparently. 

"C'mon," Brett says, holding out a hand and pulling Edward up with him. He starts leading him out of the locker room into the lobby, where he kicks off his sneakers. "Your name is Edward, right?"

"Eddy," Eddy corrects. He takes off his own shoes, and they enter the studio together. 

"100 push ups," Brett says. "Let's do them, and then we'll go to bed and start over again the next morning."

"100!" Eddy says in dismay. "I can barely do 10 in a row."

"That's alright," Brett says, and drops down to the floor, putting himself in push up position and then looking up expectantly at Eddy. "We can take as long as we need. No one else is here."

Eddy sighs and lowers himself down next to Brett. They go slowly, taking breaks in between, stretching out their arm muscles and core.

"100," Eddy counts, at last, and drops down to the floor, panting. "I can't believe we did it." He looks exhausted but a whole lot happier than he did before, and that's how Brett knows he made the right decision. 

"Now get some rest and stop beating yourself up, hey? I'll see you tomorrow night," Brett says as they leave, heading down the street in opposite directions to get to their respective dorms.

*

Brett isn't sure if Eddy will even show up the next night, but sometime around 10:30, just as he's about done with barre, he notices Eddy lurking in the doorway of the studio. Eddy is wearing a tight tank top and fitted joggers - his cute workout clothes rather than the baggy sweats he was wearing last night. Brett rolls his eyes at himself. It's not like Eddy dressed up just for him or whatever.

"Hey," he says, and Eddy's expression goes from intense stare to a somewhat shy and delighted smile.

"Hey," Eddy says. "I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Nah, I'm done," Brett says. "Ready for push ups?"

"Noooooooooo," Eddy says, but he gets on the floor willingly enough. "I'm still sore from yesterday."

"It's ok, it’ll distract you from your sore legs and feet," Brett points out. 

"Or my whole body can be in pain all the time," Eddy says, starting to pant as they reach the 10th push up. 

"Yeah, probably that," Brett agrees.

After that, meeting up at night and doing push ups together becomes a routine, their own private friendship forming between them. Brett doesn't exactly love push ups himself. but doing it with Eddy makes it almost fun - something about having someone else share your suffering. And Eddy is definitely getting stronger as well. Brett feels, well, proud for having helped him. The school is so competitive and intense, and it's easy to get wrapped up in only caring about yourself.

Eddy comes to the studio earlier and earlier - watching Brett practise barre or whatever technique he needs to work on more that day, until Brett feels way too self-conscious to continue. "You might as well join me, if you're going to keep coming early," he calls out. 

"You sure? I'm not going to slow you down?" The eagerness in Eddy's voice betrays him. 

"I'm going slow," Brett points out. "If I go any slower I'll not be moving at all."

"That's not true," Eddy says as he takes his place at the barre next to Brett, just a little bit more than arms-length away. 

It's like they have their own private class together. Even though it's always at the end of a long day and Brett is already exhausted beforehand, there's something about it that's relaxing. They don't mess around and they're focused on the dancing, but there isn't the same pressure as there is in rehearsal and in class, with everyone's eyes on you if the teacher calls you out. It's nice that Eddy gets it the same way Brett does, that he has the same drive to succeed. 

It's all awesome... until that one night. That one night that is the same as all the others, except on that night after the push ups, Brett looks over at Eddy flopped on his back on the floor, lips parted as he still is trying to catch his breath, and thinks - I could lean over and kiss you right now. That's when Brett knows he's screwed.

*

He doesn’t realise it till now, how often Eddy infiltrates his thoughts. In class, when he tries to align his body in a natural line, and thinks about how elegant Eddy looks on his extensions. Or in rehearsal, when they're working on acting, and he tries to imagine how Eddy would interpret a certain dance, a certain scene. Or in the dorms, while he's doing homework, wondering if Eddy has the same problem with maths as he does.

"How are your lifts going?" Brett says abruptly that night, when Eddy comes in. 

Eddy takes in a startled breath. "Alright," he says slowly. "I guess. I'm just... " he trails off and looks down, and Brett resists the urge to touch his face. "... scared."

"Ok," Brett shrugs. "Yeah, that's normal. Let's practice."

"What, now?" Eddy looks around like he expects a girl to suddenly appear. "I mean - but - " his eyes widen. "I can't practice with you! If I drop you and you get hurt, they're going to kill me!"

"You're not going to drop me," Brett says. "I trust you. Here, we'll start off easy. I'll lift you first."

Eddy's still pretty light in Brett's arms, his new muscles not adding much weight to his scrawny frame. Brett lifts him straight up and down in one movement, slowing down and setting Eddy down carefully. He does it a couple more times, getting the feel for Eddy's balance and weight. "See? Easy." He reluctantly lets go of Eddy's waist and steps away. 

"Ok," Eddy says, swallowing hard. "I just... don't want to drop you at the end."

"Just remember that you have to hold me up longer coming down, because my knee's gonna bend, and it'll be fine."

"Ok, ready?" Brett can feel Eddy's breath against his neck as he speaks. So maybe he had ulterior motives in suggesting they practice lifts today. 

"Yep."

"1, 2, 3," Eddy counts out loud to himself, then lifts. 

1 - Brett's off the ground, leaping towards the ceiling

2 - a slight pause at the top

3 - descending, touching down gently onto the ground, Brett bending his knees into a plie to absorb the impact of landing

"See, that was perfect," Brett says, looking back at Eddy, who suddenly takes his hands off Brett's waist and flushes. "Let's do it a few more times, then show me what you're actually doing in class."

"I mean - it's dumb, you're probably not going to... we're working on this dance right now."

"Oh." Brett feels disappointed. "So you don't know the other part - "

Eddy looks at him, indignant. "Of course I know the other part! I can understudy like a boss, I'll have you know. Besides, Mr. Perry says you need to know _both_ parts of the pas de deux to dance it properly, otherwise how do you have a connection - "

"Ok, ok," Brett laughs. "I didn't mean to step on your dancer integrity or whatever. I definitely don't know all the parts - I mean, of course I do if we're performing, but just for practice - nah."

"Tsk tsk," Eddy says. "Well you're lucky I'm me, then, and not you."

"I'm shit at explaining choreography too, so yeah," Brett says, and leans into Eddy's hands as Eddy puts them around his waist again. 

"1, 2, 3." 

The count sounds like a promise.

*

Next time, Eddy brings the music, and they pipe it through the studio speakers. Eddy's a good teacher, actually, and he knows the girl part of the dance surprisingly well, considering that he's never actually danced it before. Brett is impressed.

Brett is bad at teaching choreography and bad at learning it from sight, but he picks it up fast when he's actually doing it, so after a few runthroughs where Eddy shows him what he's supposed to be doing, Brett has it down enough that they can run through the dance. Eddy's not as terrible at lifts as he thinks he is, but Brett feels his hesitation every time they come to a lift, to the point where they're off the music. "You're thinking too much about the lift," Brett says. "You need to listen to the music instead, let it tell you when it's time."

"I know, I know," Eddy says, frustrated. "Can we do it again?"

"Let's try it without the lifts at all," Brett says, getting an idea. "We'll just count them together, so we can make sure we're on the same page, and you can stop worrying about whether I'm ready or not."

They dance it like that a couple of times flawlessly, perfectly in sync. "See," Brett says. "Your timing is right, so you need to stop second guessing. Just trust yourself."

Eddy lets out a shaky breath. "You're right."

"Let's try it with the lifts again. Just one more time, then we can practice more tomorrow."

Eddy nods and goes over to cue up the music again. 

It's fun to practise with Eddy, not a chore at all, and Brett finds himself grinning as they start the dance. It's supposed to be a light, joyful dance, and they fly through it, Eddy's hands and arms confident and steady every time he touches Brett. 

They end facing each other, fingertips just brushing each other in the air. 

"That was really, really good," Brett says, breathless from more than just the physicality of the dance. Too bad he can't dance with Eddy like this for real.

"Thanks to you," Eddy murmurs, his voice soft over the music, which has changed to a slow, romantic ballade. 

" _You_ did it," Brett insists, stepping closer to Eddy to make his point. Eddy dips his head at the same moment, and their lips come together as if they planned it, to the soft swell of the music filling their own private world.


End file.
